“I don’t think I can do it,” I managed to splutter out. My stomach churned so much and my skin had become that icky kind of clammy.
“Don’t be stupid. Of course you can. You’re my girlfriend and I believe in you. Anyway, you have to do it or you’ll make me look bad.”
He’d called me his girlfriend. Not his fake girlfriend. Not anything else. Just his girlfriend. The room spun around me, the lights blurred. I’d really throw up now but the feeling underlying it sure had changed. My dreams had come true and I floated on a cloud. This was perfect.
Then I asked him the question that changed everything. “Who is Julie?”
Chapter 20.Devon
I’d promised. I’d have never promised in a million years though if I’d known that’s what she’d ask. I’d figured it’d be some fan question. Like what had I been thinking about when I wrote my second album or what the lyrics to a song meant.
My relationship with Julie had always been hidden from the press. Tex had made sure of that. A few things had come out but my relationship with Julie had been kept secret.
“We don’t want that kind of spotlight on her,” Tex had said, from the start. Well, that was after he’d said a lot of other things about beating my head in and killing me. If it hadn’t been for the trouble of getting another bass player, I think he’d have really done it.
“Anything but that,” I told Daisy. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t even know where to start.
“Okay,” she said, folding her arms. “Deal’s off then.”
“Fine by me.”
“Fine by me too.”
Joke was on her though, because she’d already gone with her side of the bargain.
I wanted to walk out and leave her. This conversation was over, the mood was no longer fun and there was no point sticking around. But it somehow felt childish to just walk out like that. God knows why, when I’d done that kind of thing a million times before. I had a stupid need to stay in her good books and show her the best side of me.
“I don’t talk about Julie,” I said. “Not to anyone.”
“Maybe you should. Maybe it’d help you.”
“There’s nothing to help. It’s just a thing that happened.”
She stood, picked up our dishes and took them into the kitchen. I followed her. The kitchen was way too small for two people and I had to stand close to her.
“Do we need a photo of this?” I asked.
“I think we have enough.”
“You think? Me helping wash dishes, that’s a historical first.”
She didn’t smile. She didn’t turn toward me and her voice had sounded cold. A gap had opened up between us. Even though I’d been trying to cool things down, I hated not having her smile at me.
With our bodies almost touching, the silence seemed obscene. I needed to close that gap or it’d be between us forever.
“She died,” I said.
Daisy nodded. “You loved her? Of course, you loved her. She’s the one in the songs. Even when you’re not singing about her, you are.”
She ran a sink full of water and I picked up the tea towel. I’d not dried a dish in years but it seemed the natural thing to do.
“She’s the one.”
“So, what happened? Why is she not in your latest album?”
I shrugged. “She’s always there. Maybe now she’s fading a little.”
“Maybe you need to let her go.” She sat one of the plates on the rack and I picked it up.
“I’ve tried. I’ve tried a few times. But there’s no letting go. We were soul mates. And now she’s gone, there’s no one else for me. Just her.”
“She’s been gone a long time.”
“How do you know that?” I opened the cupboard, looking for somewhere to put the plate.
“From the songs.”
Of course, from the songs. I found the other plates and put the one I was holding inside, then picked up another one. I’d not meant to say so much but talking wasn’t so hard when we were side by side like this, washing the dishes. It didn’t hurt to talk about Julie with her. I didn’t get the feeling that she was only listening to humour me or that she didn’t really care. She didn’t use that voice that people use when they talk to you about someone who’d died.
I picked up another plate.
“It was a great omelette,” I said. “Thanks. It’s been a long time since someone cooked for me.”
“Did Julie cook for you?”
I laughed. “God, no. She never cooked. She never did much of anything, except party. She loved to party. She loved to have a good time. When I remember her, I remember her laughing. But that got less and less. She was intense. That’s the only word for it. Super intense. When she wanted to do something, she hurled herself toward it with no thought of the consequences.”
Daisy didn’t say anything, she just kept on washing the dishes. I dried them and put them away. The silence had become more comfortable between us though. It wasn’t the horrible, threatening thing it had been.
“She died of an overdose,” I said. “I left her alone and she died.”
Daisy pulled the plug out of the sink and we both watched the water swirl around and drain out. Then she wiped her hands and wrapped her arms around me. It was a gentle move, meant to comfort me, but before I knew it, I pressed her tight against me. I needed more than gentle comfort. I needed to wipe the memories away, for a short time anyway. This was how I did it. I used sex to replace the memories when they got too strong. It helped.
I ran my hands down her arms, her breath hot on my neck. She stayed still and didn’t look at me. I didn’t want her looking at me anyway, didn't want her reading the look in my eyes.
I cupped her face, drawing closer to her, our lips almost touching.
She gulped and I moved in closer. My lips hovered near hers. She didn’t pull back. That rosy glow came back to her skin and she froze. I wondered if she’d ever been properly fucked. I bet she held a mountain of repressed lust inside. A volcano that would erupt in red hot lava. I shouldn’t toy with a woman like that. Once you unleashed that volcano, there’d be no turning back. I’d only cause her pain. Still, I couldn’t draw myself away.
I’d get her guard down no matter what. It was a refreshing change from the easy meat I’d gotten used to. It wasn’t good to have everything my own way. I’d become soft, like a wild animal that gets domesticated. I’d lose my instincts to survive in the wild.
I slowly took her bottom lip into my mouth, not quite kissing her but promising the pleasure to come. A small gasp came from her mouth as I sucked on her lip. Her hair fell against me, tickling my skin. Her heart pounded so hard.
As our lips came together, some feeling passed through me. It wasn’t the urgent lust I felt with other women. It was something completely different. It scared me, so I kissed her harder. I wanted the urgent lust. I wanted to feel the need to get inside her and climax, that urge that wiped every other feeling away.
Instead, she pulled away from me. She couldn’t escape, not in that tiny kitchen. She backed up against the fridge though, moving her body as far away from me as she could.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? This is what you dream of at night, alone in your bed?”
“Not like this,” she whispered. Her voice trembled.
“It’s your dream come true.” I tried to draw her back into my arms but her body stiffened.
“Not while you’re thinking of her.”
I moved away now. Into the doorway, where I was in shadow. God, I wanted her. It wasn’t just to bury the memories. I wanted her. Daisy. I wanted her softness, to know what her body would feel like pressed against mine.
But she’d pushed me away and that hurt my pride.
“I’m always thinking of her; don’t you get that? This is the only way.”
She pushed past me and out of the room, then sat down on the sofa.
“You’re losing her. The memories are fading. You just have to admit that to yourself.”<
br />
That made me angry. How could Daisy think that? She knew nothing about me. She’d only known me a few weeks. The way she spoke, it was as though she’d known me for ever.
“The songs, right? You think you know it all from the music. Well, don’t believe it all. It’s just words.”
“Okay.” She sounded tired. “Maybe you should leave now.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I said. “Never forget that none of this is real.”
She was just my fake girlfriend. There was no way she was getting into my head. I’d offered her my cock, which was more than the deal called for, and she’d knocked that back. Hell, she’d rejected me. That stung like a bastard.
I grabbed my jacket and walked out the door. This deal wasn’t working and I’d have Pete get rid of her. The fake girlfriend thing was over.
Chapter 21.Daisy
Wow, Devon wanted to have sex with me and I’d knocked him back. I couldn’t tell anyone that but it was a thing that I hugged to myself like a treasure. Sure, he’d left and I’d not heard from him since but it was just a matter of time. He couldn’t still be in love with a girl who’d died ten years ago. He only needed to realise that having a real flesh-and-blood girlfriend was so much better.
God, it’d been hard making him leave though. Still, I wasn’t in this for a one-night stand. The wrench of leaving him the next morning would rip me apart.
I brushed my lips where he’d kissed me. His taste lingered there. Dark and bitter, like the best quality chocolate.
I would’ve never predicted that, at any time in my life, I’d have a chance to kiss him, let alone that I’d turn away from his kiss. But I had an endgame. I couldn’t get this close to real girlfriend status and have it crumble. I mean, he’d called me his girlfriend. Those were his exact words. Not fake girlfriend. Not Marshmallow Girl, which had to be the worst nickname ever.
I wanted to call Meadow, to have one of our long talks. She’d be full of good advice and helpful suggestions. It burned me that I couldn’t do that. I hadn’t realised this fake girlfriend thing would interfere with our friendship but lately I’d been avoiding her because that was easier than lying. I had about five messages on my phone I’d not replied to.
Instead, I went online. There were a zillion messages to answer. Pete and Devon both said I didn’t have to answer them all but I did have to. These girls were like me. They lived through me. And seriously, I had so many followers on pretty much every social media platform that existed. It was like I was famous myself.
“What’s up? No photos with Devon lately?”
Yikes, I did not need to be reminded about that. I replied saying he was busy with the album. “Jeez, people, you want me to interfere with that? I don’t think so.”
The usuals asking for sex photos. No way. Even if there was sex, there’d be no sex photos posted. No leaked sex tapes either.
“More underwear!”
Yeah, I’d had enough trouble after last time.
People asked my advice about stuff too. What to wear on dates? What car to buy. What they should study at university. That worried me. Who was I to give life advice? I wasn’t exactly that good at life choices. Well, wasn’t until I made the fake girlfriend one.
“Why don’t you and Devon get matching tattoos?”
I’d often thought about getting a tattoo and that was an excellent suggestion. I’d mention it to Pete. He might back me up on it. Maybe. Tattoos were awfully permanent though.
“When’s your shit boyfriend going to court? Hope they throw the book at him. He’s a thug.”
Whoa, that one could go in the trash. Even though Devon didn’t talk about it, I was worried about the court case. As far as I’d gathered, there was no chance of him going to jail but he might be put on a good behaviour bond and good behaviour was not something Devon excelled at. Pete thought he’d get off.
“No one is going to come forward as witnesses,” he said. “We can say it was mutual. Two guys, drunk and a bit rowdy. That’s not worth the court’s time. Plus, Devon slept with some chick the journo was trying to date. She’s willing to say he threatened to get Devon after that.”
I had to go to the court and be the steadying-influence girlfriend. I wasn’t sure about that. I mean, I wanted to be the steadying-influence girlfriend but lying under oath, that was awful.
Still, people didn’t have to write mean things on the Internet. Devon wasn’t a thug. Well, he had punched that guy for no real reason but… yeah, it was hard to justify that.
I finally got through answering them all and checked my phone. No messages from Devon. It’d been three days. I had no public appearances with him scheduled. Nothing.
I had two choices. I could sit on the sofa, checking my phone every two minutes, getting more and more stressed, or I could do one of those horrible jobs I’d put off forever. Like cleaning out my wardrobe. The sofa did look awfully tempting but I’d go nuts if I didn’t start moving around at least.
I grabbed some garbage bags and went into the bedroom. Clothes spilt out of the wardrobe as soon as I opened the door. I’d jammed them in there so tight I couldn’t actually get to the clothes I wanted to wear. I threw everything on the bed, then got out the boxes at the bottom. Everything was out. Everything now cluttered up my room so I couldn’t have a nap or even get to the door until I’d sorted stuff.
Since I was now Devon’s fake girlfriend and had a higher standard to aspire to, I figured most of my old clothes could go out. Stained t-shirts and skirts with unravelled hems, wouldn’t be needing those anymore. Shoes that hurt my feet, gone. Within an hour, I’d filled five garbage bags and had the rest of my clothes hanging neatly. That gave me a sense of satisfaction.
Then I started working through the boxes. Some were filled with my diaries. “I love Devon, one day I’ll marry him.” That kind of stuff. Even some epic teen poetry. I didn’t want to throw them out, so I put them to one side. Maybe I should post some of that diary stuff. Nah, too embarrassing.
There was only one box left. I knew what was in it but I was reluctant to let those ghosts out into the light. Still, I pulled it to me.
Sitting on top was my old camera. I’d loved that camera. When I picked it up, it fit into my hand like magic. The perfect weight, the perfect size. Beneath it were stacks of photos. I should throw them out. They were worthless. I didn’t even look at them, I just sealed the box back up and shoved it right at the back of the wardrobe. That’s where my dreams belonged.
When that dream had died, I’d replaced it with another one. I’d always been a fan of Devon’s but the more life kicked me down in other ways, the more I used him, my fantasy of him, to feel better.
I’d be Devon’s girlfriend, no matter what and, when that came true, no other stupid aspirations would matter. I’d have everything I wanted.
He’d only said those things to be nice. Even if I did the photography assistant job, what then? I’d not get anywhere. I could only go so far on Devon’s name and pity. The only photos I’d taken for years had been the snaps I took with my phone. I’d given up all that.
Hell, you could only have so many dreams come true in a lifetime and I was banking everything on the big one. Devon’s real girlfriend.
Chapter 22.Devon
I fuming about the Daisy situation for days. She was attracted to me, I knew that much, but she’d fought it with a fury. I wasn’t used to rejection. A big part of me wanted to pursue her until she gave in to the temptation. That part was mainly my cock, to be honest. The good part of me though, screamed to leave her alone. She had her reasons for not wanting to give in and they had to count for something.
This whole situation was as odd as hell. I’d tell Pete it wasn’t working and get out of it. I worried she was taking it too seriously but, more than that, I was worried about myself. I’d actually called her my girlfriend. What was that about?
I set up my gear. We didn’t need to rehearse the old songs. What we needed was decent material. You can’t polis
h a turd and it didn’t matter how many times we reworked the songs for the new album, they’d not stand up to live performance. The vital part, the element that zapped the crowd right down to their toes, was missing. You couldn’t conjure that up from nowhere but without it, playing became pointless. A couple of the new songs would work as filler on the album but you couldn’t release an album of filler, not without losing the love of your fan base.
My guitar finally tuned, I grabbed a Coke from the fridge and waited for the other guys to show up. I was burnt out, that much was true. My brain had sizzled into a steaming mess. Nothing wonderful would come from that. I’d thought the songs were ready to record. We’d booked the recording studio time based on that. But I’d been wrong. The more pressure I put on myself to fix the mess, the deader my brain became.
I’d never been dried up like this before. In the past, I’d had no trouble writing songs and would have more than enough to fill an album. Maybe I should go through some of those older songs and see if they could be reworked. That felt like cheating but it’d be better than having an album full of shit songs.
Brett rocked up to rehearsal.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Just fucking terrible,” I replied.
It was easy for him, he just turned up and played the music. I had all the responsibility. I had to write the songs and the songs had to be good. God, it made me feel like a total prick for all those years I’d given Tex shit. Maybe I should phone him and apologise.
Ha, as if.
Brett shrugged. That helped me none.
My “love” life wasn’t helping. It’d become another stress on me. I should call that woman, but what would I say? “Sorry I tried to have sex with you when my heart is elsewhere.” She was fucking right to reject me. I had been planning to use her. I used everyone. That was just me.
It was better to keep away from her than play games. I wasn’t even attracted to her; it was just that I couldn’t have sex with anyone else. That was it, for sure. A man like me couldn’t go this long without sex.
Bad for You (Fallen Star Book 4) Page 10
